by Anne Hampson
He felt far from proud of himself, and would have given anything to take back those words.
‘I’m sorry you overheard us, Muriel,’ he said with sincere regret. ‘I see now that I was mistaken about what happened yesterday.’
‘You were. I don’t know if I fainted, but I did feel ill, and I came into the offices because of the men in the yard. If you were a little less conceited you’d have known that nobody would resort to anything so—“crude” was the word your friend used.’ She turned her head sharply as Miss Cook re-entered the room, hoping she would not notice her tears. When the secretary had gone she dried her eyes and looked at Andrew apologetically.
‘I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to make a scene—but you should have let me go.’
He felt more than a little shaken as he busied himself with the tea, and quite astonished to find his hands clumsy and unsteady.
‘Please sit down, Muriel,’ he said gently. ‘I’m sure you would like a cup of tea.’ He handed it to her as she sat down. ‘A biscuit?—no, you never eat between meals, do you?’
Their eyes met fleetingly as she took the cup from him, and then Muriel’s were hidden under heavy damp lashes. He read her thoughts, knew she was puzzled by his remembering these things concerning her.
‘How long has your father been dead?’ he asked after a long silence.
‘He died a month after I returned from the cruise; it was very sudden—I would never have gone had I known he had so little time to live.’ Her mouth trembled, and a shadow crossed Andrew’s dark face.
She spoke the truth, he felt sure of it ... yet how could he reconcile this with the sort of woman he assumed her to be? There was something wrong, drastically wrong, and as the conviction was borne upon him he felt inclined to question her openly. On reflection, however, he realized that it would be rather stupid. If her one object in life was to find herself a wealthy husband, she would hardly admit it!
How could he find out more about her? he wondered impatiently, and with a flash of inspiration he thought of her aunt. The old woman’s disapproval had been so obvious that he had been extremely puzzled as to why she had brought her niece. Would she enlighten him? He had had no intention of going to the Ridleys’ party, but now—
Having finished her tea, Muriel rose to leave.
‘Are you going to tell Christine that we ... know each other?’
‘I don’t know, Muriel, it all depends.’
She shrugged her shoulders helplessly.
‘I suppose you’ll do exactly as you wish. But there’s no need for you to say I worked here, is there?’
‘Worked?’
‘I’m leaving at the end of the week.’
‘Leaving?’ He hadn’t thought of that.
‘Yes.’ Muriel blushed, but met his gaze unflinchingly. ‘I’ve just realized that I can’t stay, not after what I’ve been forced to tell you. I do have a little pride, and you will agree that it’s only natural that I never want to see you again.’ Her colour faded slowly, leaving her very pale, yet dignified and calm.
Andrew bit his lips, and after a moment’s hesitation he got up and moved to the other side of the desk.
‘I’m sorry about yesterday,’ he said in a strangely husky tone. ‘I should have seen you. I have no excuse to offer—I did say we would part friends and I haven’t acted in a friendly way towards you. I can only apologize again and ... ask you to stay.’
Muriel looked up sharply. No mistaking his tone. ‘You sound as though you really do want me to stay,’ she gasped in bewilderment. ‘Why?’
‘Because I know that you can’t afford to be out of work.’ He moved nearer to her, and she didn’t ask herself why his voice should have taken on that quality of gentleness, for there was room in her mind only for poignant memories. He stood so close that it hurt not to be able to touch him, to rub her cheek against his coat. What sort of a girl was she? she wondered in disgust. He was a cad, a man on whom no self-respecting girl would waste a thought. And yet, although she had had over four months in which to forget him, she was still as much in love with him as ever.
‘I can’t stay,’ she cried. ‘I must get away from here—I should never have come in the first place!’
‘I don’t want you to go,’ Andrew said urgently and, almost unconsciously, took her hand. ‘Stay—to please me.’
An unaccountable feeling of suspicion swept over her, only to be gone instantly as she caught his expression. Was he really sorry for treating her unjustly yesterday? But he’s not sorry for what he did to me at first, she thought. If he would say he’s sorry for that I think I could forgive him.
‘You have your family to consider,’ Andrew went on. ‘And there’s no reason to believe that it will be any easier to obtain work now than it was before. You would be very foolish to leave without giving the matter more consideration.’
Her family ... yes, she had forgotten them, and the taunts her sister had repeatedly thrown at her.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ she cried distractedly. ‘I don’t know whatever to do!’
‘Muriel, don’t cry—’ Before either of them realized it, she was in his arms, her head resting against his coat—just where it longed to be. She felt his heart beating, his cool breath stirring her hair, and for a brief moment she was lost to everything but the surge of wild sweet pain that filled her.
Then she flung herself from him, appalled at her weakness.
‘How dare you touch me!’ she whispered through whitened lips. ‘If you knew how much I despise you—yes, I do, so you needn’t look like that! I’m not going to deny that I loved you once—it would be useless after what I’ve said—but I don’t love you now. I hate you! Get that!’
Her poor little effort would have amused him had he not felt so miserable, so utterly wretched ... and all because of the pain in her eyes. Even if he had not made a mistake, even if she had been an adventuress at the time he met her, there was no doubt that she loved him now.
Did anything else matter?
He was dazed by his own question. Was his love for Muriel so strong that he could overlook anything? Before he had time to consider, that little scene in the workroom yesterday intruded into his thoughts, and a sudden harshness crept into his eyes, only to give way at once to perplexity as he glanced at her once more.
There must be some explanation, he thought desperately, though his voice was cold as he said,
‘Why were you allowing young Thomson to make love to you yesterday?—Yes, I saw you both as I came across the yard.’
Muriel had not recovered from her shame and humiliation; she was filled with a burning desire to hit back, to convince Andrew that she no longer cared; his words were a heaven-sent opportunity and she spoke without thought or hesitation.
‘I happen to love him!’ she flashed with a defiant toss of her head, and then felt almost frightened by the silence that followed.
‘You ... love him!’ He spoke in queer, hollow-sounding tones, but they were lost on Muriel, for she suddenly remembered what Peter had said about ‘that sort of thing’ being strictly forbidden in the factory. She felt almost sick with apprehension. Would Peter lose his job?
‘I shouldn’t have said that—I didn’t mean it—it was ... a lie. He wasn’t holding me, not really, just touching my shoulders—It wasn’t Peter’s fault. I was upset because you wouldn’t—’
‘Never mind,’ he cut in harshly, waving a hand to silence her. ‘You’re being clumsy and totally unconvincing. There’s no need for you to worry; I’m not thinking of dismissing either of you. But see that it doesn’t happen again; we have certain rules here and they must be obeyed.’ The employer now, delivering a stern warning. ‘Should there be a next time I shall not be so lenient.’ Picking up a pen, he drew some papers towards him. ‘I don’t think we have anything else to say to each other ... but I advise you not to be too hasty about leaving your job; it may not be easy to find another.’
Although dismissed, Muriel stood staring at hi
m in bewilderment. He looked suddenly very tired—and upset about something. Moreover, he was genuinely concerned at the idea of her being out of work.
Andrew looked up and Muriel hastily drew back a few paces from the desk.
‘Thank you very much—about Mr. Thomson, I mean,’ she said in a rather subdued voice, and left the room.
Dropping the pen on the blotting-pad, Andrew stared broodingly into space, going over in detail his conversation with Muriel; his perplexity returned as he remembered how she had lain passively in his arms ... as though content to be there.
And immediately afterwards she had told him baldly that she loved someone else! It just didn’t make sense...!
His eyes suddenly widened in comprehension. ‘What a fool I am,’ he murmured, feeling as though a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
Then why had she been in that fellow’s arms? he wondered, frowning in puzzlement. ‘He was only touching my shoulders,’ she had said. ‘I was upset because you—’
Because he, Andrew, had refused to see her? Yes, that was what she was about to say when he interrupted her.
Feeling almost lighthearted, he picked up the telephone receiver and within a couple of minutes was speaking to Christine Ridley.
His questions were guarded; he smiled faintly as Christine purred her replies.
Aunt Edith would be at the party.
CHAPTER NINE
‘Did you see the baby?’ Mrs. Paterson took a casserole from the oven and put it on the table. ‘Dil looks well, doesn’t she?’
‘Yes, and the baby’s beautiful,’ Muriel returned enthusiastically, bringing an expressive snort from her brother.
‘Arthur Blears says all new-born babies are ugly—and he ought to know, because he’s just had twins.’
‘How clever of him.’
‘His mother, you wop!’
‘The words that child comes out with,’ Mrs. Paterson said in disgust. ‘I don’t know where he gets them; it certainly isn’t from here.’
‘That’s nothing; old Killer called me the son of a spineless—Do you want to know what you are?’
‘No, thank you,’ his mother retorted and, turning to Muriel, ‘I had a visit from your Aunt Edith today. It was a surprise, I can tell you, for it must have cost her at least five shillings to break her journey—And you’ll never guess why she was going ... for no other reason than to—’
‘Where was she going?’ Muriel inquired, pouring herself a cup of tea.
‘To Sarah’s party—you know she never accepts her invitations; won’t spend the train fare, the old skinflint. And the only reason she’s going tonight is to give someone a good telling off. Did you ever hear of such a thing? Some young man, it is—must have done her a dirty trick at one time or another, but to go to the party to cause a scene. She says she’s going to show him up in front of everyone; to tell Sarah and Christine just what sort of person he is—Oh, I hadn’t the patience to listen! She has always let her stupid tongue run away with her. Is anything wrong? You look quite pale. Drink your tea while I serve this up.’
‘Did ... she say who it was?’
‘What a silly question!’
‘But she can’t cause a scene at a party—Aunt Edith wouldn’t do a thing like that!’
‘Now you know very well your Aunt Edith would do anything that came into her head. No, she just said it was a man. I don’t envy him, for your aunt seemed to have worked herself up into a rare temper. I thought I knew her, but I never realized she could be so vindictive and ill-mannered as to cause trouble at her own sister’s silver wedding. Be quick with your tea, I want to clear away early tonight; Mrs. Stanway is coming in for a chat.’
Muriel stood up.
‘I won’t have it, if you don’t mind, Mother,’ she said, striving to hide her agitation. ‘I—I’ve decided to go to Aunt Sarah’s party, after all.’
‘Decided? At this time?’ Her mother glanced at the clock. ‘Is it just morbid curiosity, or do you think you can prevent your aunt from making a fool of herself?’
‘I could try,’ Muriel answered through whitened lips.
‘Well, you won’t succeed. However, I’m glad you’re going; you can tell us all about it. Come on, I’ll help you to dress.’
‘I’ll have to take a taxi. Derek, run round to Mr. Wright and ask him to send it across in about ten minutes.’
‘All right; but it may be out.’
‘It was there when I passed just now.’
Several times during the journey Muriel felt like turning back, for she felt she must be too late to do anything. ‘Oh, why must she meddle? Why can’t she mind her own business?’ she whispered fiercely. ‘Surely she knows it’s me she’ll be showing up!’ Leaning forward, she urged the driver to hurry.
‘I’m doing my best, Miss Paterson,’ he returned affably. ‘One more set of lights and then we can open out.’
Contrary to her expectations, Muriel was by no means the last to arrive. Her aunt, receiving the guests, merely said, ‘Hello, Muriel’ and turned away again.
No sooner had Muriel handed her coat to the maid, who came up to her, than Aunt Edith spoke from behind.
‘Why, Muriel, you said you weren’t coming!’
Muriel spun round.
‘Aunt Edith...! Have you spoken to Andrew?’
Her words came in choked little gasps, and she saw the old lady smile in amusement.
‘Not yet. I suppose your mother told you of my intentions?’
‘Yes, she did,’ Muriel replied with a mixture of anger and relief. ‘And you shan’t do this—I won’t have you meddling in my affairs. I thought you were sympathetic the other night, but I see I was mistaken! You came here to show Andrew up, but you know very well you’d be making a fool of me at the same time—’ She broke off, subdued by the old lady’s stern expression. ‘Please—you won’t say anything—not anything at all?’ she added entreatingly. ‘It’s awful enough as it is. I just couldn’t bear any more humiliation.’
A long silence ensued before Aunt Edith spoke, and when she did her disappointment was obvious.
‘Very well ... but I was looking forward with relish to his discomfiture. Don’t look so distracted, child, I’ve promised, haven’t I?’
For some inexplicable reason Muriel felt suspicious. Her aunt was outspoken; at times she was actually rude, but ... Muriel studied her face doubtfully, questioningly.
‘I could hardly believe it when Mother told me what you were going to do. Were you really going to make a scene?’
Without batting an eyelid the old lady said, in a voice so grim that her niece was absolutely convinced,
‘I intended unmasking him! He’s a scoundrel, and I felt that your aunt and uncle ought to know what he did to you. He would have lost that contract, and that should have given you immense satisfaction.’
Should have ... if she had been revengeful, Muriel thought. But she wasn’t; on the contrary, she hoped he would get the contract.
‘What a fool I am,’ she quivered, not realizing she spoke aloud.
‘We all are, at times,’ her aunt responded, unexpectedly patting her shoulder, ‘so don’t let it worry you too much. Besides,’ she added cryptically, ‘things have a way of sorting themselves out. Have you seen anything of the young man since I saw you last?’
‘Yes, he sent for me to go to his office.’
‘Did he, now?’ Aunt Edith’s eyes widened in expectation. ‘What did he want?’
‘He wanted to know why I wanted to speak to him so urgently.’
‘Ah!’ The old lady smiled with satisfaction. So he had weakened, had he? ‘You told him?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll bet he got a shock when he knew that the girl he’d been playing fast and loose with was the niece of the man from whom he hoped to obtain a very profitable contract. What did he do?—offer you promotion?’
‘He isn’t like that,’ was Muriel’s quick and half angry retort.
‘He’s a busi
ness man.’
‘Well, he wouldn’t—I don’t think he would use those methods.’
‘All right.’ Aunt Edith dismissed that as unimportant. ‘Tell me all that was said.’
Muriel obeyed, omitting only the incident of allowing Andrew to hold her in his arms. Several times her aunt grunted and nodded her head, although she appeared strangely preoccupied.
‘So he was anxious that you should not be out of work, eh?’ she commented when Muriel had lapsed into silence. ‘That’s just as—’ Whatever she had been going to say was cut short by the appearance of Christine, dazzling and elegant in a gown of red organza.
‘Oh, there you are, darling; I’ve been looking everywhere for you—Good evening, Aunt Edith,’ she added with condescending politeness. ‘Come on, Muriel, there’s someone I want you to meet.’ Grabbing her hand, Christine pulled her towards the door. ‘I told you about him; I didn’t think he was going to be here, but he changed his mind—’
‘Because of you, I suppose,’ from Aunt Edith caustically as she followed them into the drawing-room. Then noticing Muriel’s anguished expression, she whispered, ‘No use, my dear, there’s no hope of escape.’
Christine was on her toes, looking around her.
‘Now where is he? What a crush—Oh, over there; come on.’
Aunt Edith trotted along, too, despite the glance she received from Christine. Andrew, standing by the fire talking to a woman with cropped hair and broad, manly shoulders, turned as Christine spoke, breathing a sigh of relief as his companion walked away.
Christine introduced him to Muriel, wondering at the strangeness of his glance as it flickered over her cousin’s slender figure.
‘But we have met,’ he said coolly, extending a hand. Muriel’s heart turned a somersault and her hand began to tremble in his. So he did not intend to keep silent—
‘Miss Paterson works at the factory—don’t you remember me, I spoke to you when I came over your department?’ and, turning to Christine, ‘How odd that you didn’t know.’
